Morning
Oedran
THEY WALKED from Macarian House to the Palace, enjoying the warm, blustery morning. Adeone glad of the chance to stretch his legs. The way his son and Cal chatted animatedly warmed his heart and some anxiety left him. Given time, Tain would be fine: he lived in the moment. It would be quiet times when it would hit him or sudden moments when he’d forget and then remember; chance comments would bring the loss to mind, to reality. For Arkyn it was a constant burning loss, embers that depressed his mood all day. In time, they would burn lower, but Adeone feared that his eldest would never truly be at ease with his young mother’s death.
As they ambled up the Maclan, the sombre atmosphere became almost tangible. It was busy, but there was a distinct lack of colour in people’s clothes. There was muted conversation rather than laughter and jostling. The proclamation of Ira’s death had been read the day before and although his Court was in mourning the proclamation hadn’t required it of anyone else, yet here was their own offering and it touched his heart in the way official mourning never could.
He glanced to see if the atmosphere had affected Tain. The young boy was more subdued than he’d been in the privacy of Macarian House, but he was still talking with Cal and Adeone could see that the two were already firm friends. Walking through the city with the King and young Prince didn’t seem to faze the lad and that was important if the friendship was to survive.
By the time they reached Alcium Plaza, word they were coming had spread before them, even without a herald crying it out. Sergeant Marsh’s posture changed as he became even more watchful. The wide square with the City Alcium in its centre was almost silent. Ira’s funeral would take place there and Adeone tried hard not to think about that. He longed for the privacy of his private alcium, for time just to contemplate, to order his thoughts and send them to ancestors, but the time wasn’t right. He was too emotional.
Tain stopped talking and Cal appeared disconcerted for the first time. The guards walked a step closer as they crossed the plaza and circled the Alcium. The yeomen on the King’s Gate saluted smartly as they passed into the Administrative Quarter and walked up the road towards the Palace. They entered Palace Plaza and Adeone led the way around to the right to enter the Palace at Stable Gate. The guards saluted crisply, grooms leading horses stepped hurriedly aside and there was an easily recognisable three-note whistle. It made Adeone want to groan. The chief groom broke off his conversation and glanced between the path to the Palace and the gate. He relaxed and crossed over to Adeone, bowing rheumatically.
“Sire, my condolences.”
“Likewise, Jack, and thank you. Where are the foals?” he enquired, putting an arm around Tain’s shoulders.
“They are in the paddock, Your Majesty. I think I know just the one as well, sir.”
“If you don’t, I’m rather surprised.” As they made their way to the paddock, Adeone continued, “I met an under-groom of yours, from years ago, the other day: Wynfeld.”
“I always wondered why he left. He was good with horses and enjoyed the work.”
“Misunderstanding with Lord Macaria, I believe.”
“His Lordship was notorious for them, Sire,” murmured Jack. “How was young Wynfeld?”
“In himself, well, I believe. He’s accepted a commission in Oedran. Here we are, Tain. Go and choose.”
Adeone flicked his eyes at a guard, an instruction to go with Tain and Cal who had hared off. Two minutes later Adeone, who’d been watching Tain, said, “It seems we have a decision. Always quick that one. Not like Prince Arkyn, who takes his time.”
“Both of them do you proud though, sir.”
“Thank you. They’re good lads; I just hope they grow into good men.”
“Can’t see how they could fail to, Sire.”
They wandered over to Tain, who pointed at a jet-black foal: a Swiftfoot like Pursuit, bred for speed and endurance.
Adeone turned to Jack. “What’s his temperament?”
“Good. He’s the one I thought of for His Highness. He’s got a bit of a mischievous, independent streak that I thought exactly right for my Prince.”
Adeone hid his amusement. “Then, Tain, he’s yours.”
“His coat matches Prince Tain’s hair as well, Sire,” said Calumiel easily.
Adeone glanced from the bright-eyed lad to his son, “It does indeed, Master Calumiel. What will you call him, Tain?”
“I don’t know, sir,” replied Tain, downcast, but then he grinned and turned to the chief groom. “What did you call him, Jack?”
“Bandit, Your Highness.”
“It hardly seems fair to him to change it. Will ‘Bandit’ do, father?”
“Very nicely I should think. Jack, when he has been broken in by your best ambler, please send him to wherever His Highness is and I really mustn’t keep you from your work any longer.”
Jack bowed and left. Adeone leant on a fence whilst Tain and Calumiel chatted amicably. A slender, blond-haired figure appeared on the opposite side of the paddock. Adeone’s brows began to knit. Hackles rising, his eyes tracked the man as he strutted towards them.
“Uncle Scanlon, see the horse father has given me,” said Tain excitedly.
“Very nice, Tain. You must be sure not to fall. It could be fatal.”
Tain’s face fell.
“Lord Scanlon, a word,” snapped the King.
“Adeone?” Lord Scanlon’s voice was silky.
“Are we in public? Why, yes, I believe we are!” Adeone’s wasn’t.
“Sorry, Sire! I came to offer my condolences on the death of the Queen.”
“Offer them and go away if all you intend to do is scare my son,” snarled Adeone.
“I obviously didn’t mean to, Sire. How are you?”
“How do you think I am?” hissed Adeone.
“Dying of a broken heart?” enquired Scanlon confidently.
“No need to get your hopes up. Do you require anything else?”
“Not really. The justice system seems to run itself.”
“I’m glad something does.”
Scanlon finally took heed of the tone in Adeone’s voice and left with an exaggerated bow.
Not long afterwards, the party returned to Macarian House. For ease, they entered by the servants’ entrance. Cal blanched at the sight of his father at the kitchen door. Master Galdwin saw Cal but failed to consider his companions.
“What the blazes do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m sorry, Pa…”
Adeone touched Cal’s shoulder lightly. “I delayed your son’s return. I believe a runner was sent to explain that.”
Master Galdwin gave a curt bow. “Yes. I just assumed it to be a game.”
“Next time, I’ll send a sealed note. Do you require Master Calumiel at home? I wouldn’t like to inconvenience your family, but Prince Tain has been enjoying his company.”
“I… er… no, Sire.”
“I’ll see he’s seen safely home later then,” said Adeone, watching Master Galdwin hastily leave. The King eyed the boys. “What did he mean by ‘another game’?” Seeing Tain biting at his lip, he continued, “Prince Tain, please answer me.”
“I’ve sent a runner before so Cal could stay and talk. I’m sorry, father.”
“Ah. I thought you two knew each other well for a chance encounter. Why haven’t you mentioned anything to me?”
“Because you were busy, sir.”
“And because we thought you might disapprove, sir,” said Cal, trying to help Tain out. “Although I’m born alunan, my father is cisan born.”
“That, to me, is immaterial. Though I am guessing in your house it is not. There are prejudices, I assume.”
“Prejudices?” Cal’s tongue found its way around the new word.
“Inherent mistrusts. An opinion held without the foundation for it to be built on.”
“Yes, Sire, you could say that.”
“Right, well, promise me, both of you, no more games and I’ll see if I can reason with Master Galdwin.” They agreed with alacrity. “Go on with you both. Enjoy your day. I think I’ve been spotted. All right, Simkins, I’m coming. It can’t be ten yet.”
“It is a quarter past, sir. Lord Landis is in the study.”
“Must be such a novelty for him. It seems that, whenever I am with my sons, my life turns into one of apologies. Talking of which, how are yours? I’ve never apologised for cutting your leave short. Do give my regards to your wife.”